Search This Blog

Thursday, 27 February 2014

Very often casual music fans will claim that there's not a lot out there, and they seem very comfortable in wallowing in the past.
That's fine, but we all know that what they really mean is that there's not a lot going on in the public eye as the charts just seem to be made up of acts created in a laboratory somewhere.
Aurally identical to each other, one song seems to just bleed into another if we lend an ear to the radio, or a eye to the music channel on the television.
Yet we should never forget what is bubbling under.
Like "Silence on the Streets" by Black and White Boy.

Monday, 17 February 2014

Darling BOY is - for those who
don’t know, and there will be many - the artistic outlet for Alex Gold whom I
met when I booked and promoted a show by Duncan Reid (Ex of The Boys) in
Glasgow.

The reason that Alex was there is
because he is currently playing guitar in the “Big Heads”, who are very finely backing
Duncan up as he reintroduces himself to UK audiences with his debut solo
release.

(Fact fans may also be interested
to know that Alex is also a member of The UK Ukulele Orchestra. Those stars of
youtube who are shared on pretty much every social media site you could care to
mention.)

On the day he came across as a
very nice chap, and I bought his ep in an attempt to show some fiscal solidarity
with those who pull their arses from one venue to another across the globe for
little or no recognition.

It’s not uncommon for me to do
this, and I have a pile of very good releases by solo acts and bands that in
the main no one gives much of a thought to.

I suppose I should put them all
in a box, and with a sharpy scrawl “unsung heroes” on the outside of it, but I
digress, and we should jump back to Darling BOY here.

I was looking forward to getting
home and giving it a spin, but unfortunately I left it in my girlfriends’ car,
and that wasn’t very clever on my part as I knew it would take weeks for me to
finally be reunited with it.

So there I was left in that no
man land of non-anticipation.

Without knowing what sonic delights
may lie within the four tracks all I could do was wait, and wait, and wait.

There was nothing to base an
opinion on, just the emptiness of my life without Darling BOY, and no way of
knowing if it would enhance it or not.

I did remind her a few times that
she had it, but Darling BOY seemed to exist in a memory blank spot for her, and
it was getting to the embarrassing point as I’d went from dropping mild hints
to major ones like “where the f*** is my record”.

Finally, last week, the day finally
arrived when the ep and I were to get to know each other.

So was it worth the wait?

Yes indeedy.

Four tracks of Alex just striking
out and doing what he damn well pleases.

The lack of uniformity is a
delight to listen to in this era when everything seems to have to have an angle
attached.

If there a common thread then it’s
in its “Englishness”. The quintessential sound of English pop that has woven
its way through everything from The Kinks and the Small Faces to Blur and The
Libertines.

The opening track “Crazy Jane and
Jack the Journeyman” is demo-esque in its approach, and sounds timelessly ever-green
in how it reminds the listener of an acoustically minded The Strokes as is thumps
along nodding its head to the end of the fifties and the dawning of the
sixties.

Then just as you think that may
be getting to grips with it he takes us into what could be a melding of minds
between early Radiohead and Mumford and Sons on “Air Conditioned Gypsy”, but
ony nif you focus on one small sum of all its parts.

It’s a thought that on paper would
spark oil and water division of views as pretty much everyone would claim that never
the twain shall meet, but when you let all the other ear worms take up some space
it a makes more sense than most would care to admit.

Flip it over and with “Fortune”
he’s off again in another direction as a more polished indie pop hit in waiting
is revealed, and then he wraps it a up with a home recording of “Shirley” that
some nineties indie movers and shakers would give their right bollock to have
written in the present just so that they had a track that they could use to build
a bridge from their then into their now.

Oh, I just googled Darling BOY
and found a website and there’s a video for a song that’s not on the ep.

Excuse the pre-emptive
disclaimer, but if I ramble on a bit, while lacing the review with wild
inaccuracies, then I apologies unreservedly for taking shite.

I shouldn’t have really attended
this as I was still in the grips of a virus that has wiped out a full week -
and continues to have its grip on me - but sometimes you have raise your ass
from the sickbed, and dose yourself up with enough over the counter meds to
raise the dead, just to get a fix of dirty rock and roll.

It’s not big, it certainly isn’t
clever, but it can be worth it…….if it doesn’t kill you.

So what was the show that was
worth risking my health for I hear you ask?

Well with Tav Falco slipping out
of sight in the rear view mirror, and garage aficionados wondering where they would
find another new kind of (old) kick to get the blood pumping, it was down to
the annual “Lux Lives” event turning up just in the nick of time to save the
day, and I wasn’t going to miss that.

In honour of the magnificent front
man, of the equally magnificent Cramps, Glasgow really does enjoy slipping into
some rubber and paying homage at the altar of trash decadence, and this year in
McChuills the city did it with style.

The night started off in confusion
– as anything involving the music of the Cramps should – as what appeared to be
a random attendee took to the stage before the billed Fnords and delivered a leftfield
cover of Green Door that I would purchase a copy of right now if I knew who the
unassuming baseball cap wearing fella was, and of course if he had a copy to
sell.

Unexpected as the performance was
it did set the quality bar high for others to follow, but The Fnords weren’t to
be fazed and the two girls, one guy trio delivered a seismic blast of sonic
aggression that I I’d happily sacrifice my hearing to.

It’s Dick Dale in a blender and The
Cramps being happy sapped in the nicest possible way.

It certainly won’t be the last
time that I see them as I’m now desperately wanting to catch them do a full set
of their original material rather than a fistful of ‘fuck you’ Cramps covers.

Mondo A Go Go were going to
struggle after that, but they valiantly made the effort and managed to keep the
energy levels needle dancing in the red throughout with Whoo He Ha Ha a shining
highlight.

Geek Maggot Bingo were never
going to be looking to take any prisoners and tore into McChuills with a
frenzied set of covers that seen both the singer/guitarist and bassist leave
the stage to get in the faces of the crowd in an attempt to push for a reaction.

Rising from the ashes of the Acid
Fascists the band are pushing hard at what they do and are certainly deserving
of our attention.

And now is when it gets fuzzy.

It was either The Brutes or F for
Crack next, but let’s just go for the latter first.

F for Crack are the band who
snatched success from the jaws of defeat when initially the feedback that squealed
defiantly whenever the mic came close to the apple laptop threated to impose its
will on their set, but with some knob twiddling, and the singer taking to the
side of the stage to minimise the electronic hissy fit, everything just clicked
into the place and the duo were able to deliver the “gonzo” performance of the
evening.

Bits of it were like Alan Vega
had managed to crack a smile after knecking a load of E’s.

Yes it was that good. Like Suicide
as a party band.

The Brutes were of course the slack
jawed cousins of the night as they did the ramshackle bop.

Operating in an alternate universe
where the fifties clash with the sixties over drugs, draft dodging, psychedelia,
thrashing guitars and a perverse attraction to a punk ethos. They are the
antidote to everything that is clean and shiny in life.

And with that I threw in the
towel.

A snot stained towel weighted
down with an excessive amount of mucus, and probably bits of brain, that I had
regularly deposited into as the bands played.

All in all, a very special night,
and one that I am sorry that I couldn’t manage to hang on until the end of.

On the plus side is that I did leave
with a Lux Goodie Box, a 7” single featuring four of the acts, and a commemorative
CD.

Many thanks to Colin Duff for
organizing the event, and for supplying a CD for my Aussie mate.

My name is Colin Hunter, hello. I was searching through the
internet recently and found out how much land that the Queen owns, 6,600
million acres of land is a number that keeps popping up.

Is this true?

I was flabbergasted when I learned this as this land would
equate to approximately £17,600,000,000,000.

Now I am not the most intelligent person in the room, (I say
as ‘Father Ted’ plays in the background), but this money could be used to buy a
few meals for people that were hungry, it could provide shelter and clothing
for the homeless and clothes-less and it could provide medical treatment for
all the people dying from curable diseases.

I know I sound like I am having a go at the Queen, and that
is because I am, but I do not in any way shape or from think that she is alone
in this though.

I think it is a horrible way we all tend to just distract
our attention from the most important things in life, “I wish this Oxfam
advertisement would finish so that I can watch the X factor”.

If someone has 14 rooms in a house and only uses 5, what is
the need in that, when you have people that call outside their home. People
have the, “right’, (I guess), to work hard and gain what they want but it just
seems wrong.

Morally wrong. I mean I know rich people don’t have to get
rid of their 11th car and help anyone, but it just doesn't sit too well with
me.

There is more than enough resources for the everyone to live
comfortably and it’s not happening, greed is continuing to ruin us humans, a
little greed is ok, in fact, I would say I ate more than enough pasta and
meatballs to do me for TWO nights tonight….but can you see the difference
without me having to point it out?

I know giving away money and helping people is bad business
but if you made love and happiness your business, let me tell you, your company
would be booming, my cousin.

Also I have read animal farm and I know what you think I am
think, which is wrong, but so is this world we live in, can't we all just not
kill each other by allowing preventable death to occur, because that is what
the Queen is doing, she is looking at a person about to be hit by a truck and
instead of giving them a heads up, she's pulling out the popcorn.

In the British national anthem we hear the words, "God
save our gracious Queen". Gracious? seriously?

I think my point on that is made, though why should she be
saved before anyone else, she's no more special that Jimmy at the end of my
street that is living on pennies and not knowing if he should put the heating
on the night even though he might wake up dead. (ye have to have a wee joke in
among this serious talk, ken?)

I have rambled on here, but the main thing I wanted to say
was, "come on, this is no fair, share the wealth out a bit'.

I would really like to hear a response as to why someone in
a position (such as the Queen ) should set an example.

Religion might follow suit and start being.....nice. that's
weird that isn't it, the fact that all the money that The Royal family and lets
just say....the catholic church have and there are still people in dire need of
a fish supper. I just upsets me that people are dying needlessly, I'm a bit
weird that way, call me "old-fashioned".

Please excuse my poor grammar and is. spelling.

Your truly,

Colin Hunter.

The above is the first in a series of open
letters from Coin Hunter that will be shared on the blog.

Thursday, 13 February 2014

Nation guidance councillor –
First I would like to lay some ground rules.

The first is that you are both
expected to respect each other. So no interruptions when the other is talking.

The other is that threats and
aggressive behaviour of any sort will not be tolerated.

Are these rules acceptable to you
both?

England - I am in agreement. The
terms are absolutely fine by me.

Scotland – I have no problem in
accepting the terms either.

Nation guidance councillor – So as
is the norm when two nations are having some issues it is always best to go
back to the beginning. How did your relationship begin?

England – Being neighbours we had
a sort of love hate thing going on and that evolved into more love than hate
until we decided we were better together than apart.

Scotland – That’s not really how
I recall it. My memory is of a sort of arranged marriage that was arranged by people
who were keen on us getting together as it was personally beneficial to them. I
wasn’t really consulted on it.

England – This is all blatantly untrue.
It was a happy occasion and I don’t recall any of this negativity being aired at
the time.

Nation guidance councillor – Can you
substantiate any of that Scotland?

Scotland – Well I can clearly
remember Sir George Lockhart saying “the whole nation appears to be against the
union” and Daniel Defoe who was hired by a Robert Harley to spy on me prior to
us getting together said that “for every Scot in favour there are 99 against”,
and if we want to talk about freedom of choice maybe we should mention the £20,000
that was used to secure support by way of bribes.

It certainly wasn’t the romantic walk
in the park that was being described. Some English Rose tinted revisionism
seems to have already crept in.

On the day it was implemented
martial law had to be imposed.

England – Disgusting! And I
resent the implication of revisionism.

Scotland - I apologise. My intent
was not to imply revisionism, but to clearly state it.

Nation guidance councillor – Is this
not simply an issue that should have been resolved many years ago?

Scotland – I agree, and if anyone
had been listening maybe it would have been.

England – And there you go with
the typical snide dig.

Scotland – And the typical response
that doesn’t actually address the issue.

Nation guidance councillor – Okay
then, can we explore this matter a bit as it does seem to be that you both set
off on a journey together without putting your best foot forward?

England – It was normal for the
time, and sitting here in the present we can all see that it wasn’t a positive
start, but what can we do about the past?

Nation guidance councillor – That
seems to be fair. What do you think Scotland?

Scotland - It’s very nice to hear
an acceptance of wrongdoing for the first time, and I appreciate the effort,
but it does seem a bit dismissive. When I hear England say that then to my ears
it’s “get over it. It was ages ago”.

Nation guidance councillor – Okay
then can we leave that to the side just now and can I ask how you have generally
got on over the years?

England – We have taken a
supportive paternal role on and looked after Scotland well. I’ve never been
sure what the problem has been.

Scotland – That’s it there. A
paternal role is all that has ever been acceptable. We are looked after. There’s
never been any equality in the relationship and England doesn’t understand why
anyone would want anything more than that.

I’ve given the Union ground breaking
inventions, pushed at the boundaries of science, offered up a bountiful supply
of natural resources and contributed to the man power required to build an
empire that was the envy of the whole world.

Our shared history is awash with
Scottish blood as we marched to the beat of an imperialistic drum and what have
we had in return?

England – I have always credited
you.

Scotland – From afar with cut
glass goblets raised in comfortably warm rooms as those who did the hard work struggled
through cold winters. That credit doesn’t educate the children, provide
employment or keep the wolves away from the door.

Nation guidance councillor – You sound
bitter Scotland.

Scotland – I am extremely bitter.
We hadn’t been together for even fifty years and you banned the kilt and
reinforced the disarming act.

England – Oh so innocent eh? You
had damn Jacobites spoiling for a fight.

Scotland – Yes we did, and why
not? No bits of paper signed truly reflected the will of the people. You were
looking to subjugate us, to remove our identity to ensure an assimilation that
suited you.

This is what you have never
understood. We are not, and have never been English.

England – You have always hated me. Everything you says confirms it. How could we have a healthy relationship
with that resentment being so fiercely clung to?

Scotland – You understand nothing.
We don’t hate you. We just don’t want to be you.

England – You had the choice to
leave in ’79.

Scotland – We had nearly 52% of
the vote, but you stacked the deck so that it had to be 40% of the whole
electorate. All of those who had registered but failed to vote counted as a no.

Nation guidance councillor – Is this
true England?

England – I don’t remember.

Scotland – Aye right! Do you
remember trying out the poll tax on me a year before everyone else? What about
when you suppressed the information that if I was to go it alone that I had
the money to do so?
Does anyone want to talk about oil? It’s the big black slick
elephant in the room after all.

This relationship has been pretty
much a one way street since the beginning and you have the cheek to think that
given the option of throwing the towel in, or staying to be used until you
break me, that I would be stupid to pick the former.

Nation guidance councillor –
There’s a great deal been said there. How would you like to respond to that?

England – Oh well I suppose that
my initial response to all of that would be to say that I accept we have had some
differences, but that I still love you and I don’t want you to leave.

Scotland – No. I’m leaving.

England - Okay, but you know you
can’t get by without me.

Scotland – We will see I suppose.

England – No one else would want
you. You are old fat and ugly and everyone knows you have a drink problem.

Scotland – I’m sorry but I’ve
got a future to catch. Oops. I mean a bus.

England stands and storms out slamming
the door.

Scotland - Same time next week
for more of the same?

Nation guidance councillor – I have
free space in my diary up until September.

Scotland – That’s all that will
be required I expect. You fancy a drink? I'm meeting up with a few of the Scandinavian countries for cocktails, N Ireland are coming, their craic is always good. Wales will be there. Cornwall called of as they have some personal issues, but you are welcome to join us.

Nation guidance councillor - That would be nice, but due to having to keep it all professional I'll have to take a rain-check, but count me in for the party in September.

Teenager with questionable fringe
- Excuse me. How much is the Ramones t-shirt?

Salesman - It’s £10, but you have
to fill out a punk rock questionnaire first that has an administration fee of
£2. If you get over 75% of the questions correct then we will provide you with
a licence that will allow you to purchase the t-shirt.

The licence can also be used to
purchase merchandise by over 200 other globally famous punk acts from the Sex
Pistols to Black Flag.

Teenager with questionable fringe
– Is my £2 refundable if I get less than 75%?

Salesman – No, but we have a
special offer on high fives to the face with a chair for those who get below
50% and those who fall between that and 75% get a free look of disdain.

Teenager with questionable fringe
– Are the questions multiple choice?

Salesman - Yes they are. You have
the choice of providing the correct answer or multiple wrong ones.

Teenager with questionable fringe
– Can you give me an example of one of the questions? Like a hard one. If I
know the answer then I’d maybe go with the £2 and apply for the license..

Salesman – I’m not supposed to do
that, but okay. This one is probably one of the toughest questions. You ready?

Teenager with questionable fringe
- Fire away.

Salesman – Okay then. Who are
Joey, Dee Dee, Johnny and Tommy? I’ll give you a clue. They’re the Ramones.

Teenager with questionable fringe
– Er, hmmm, Eh is it,,,no wait. It’s something to do with that other band The
Crash isn’t it?

Salesman – I’m sorry apart from
telling you they are the Ramones I can’t give you any more clues.

Salesman - No I’m not and I’m
going to have to ask you leave now as hordes of older punks have sensed your presence
and are making their way here now to more than likely set you on fire, and then
beat the flames out with baseball bats.

Disclaimer : To be honest I don't really care what people wear, but it's a cool design and does reflect the feelings of many.

As the flooding in the south of
England continues to dominate the news it has been interesting to see how our
government has reacted to it.

If there was a graph then the
starting point would be classed as “shit happens”, with the ever rising red
line peaking on “Oh fuck it’s impacting on tory heartland”.

Initially it was a horrible
situation, but considered as interesting as belly button fluff.

Cornwall could have been the
modern day Atlantis, and in the deep pile carpeted corridors and offices of Westminster
the water cooler jokes would have been about inbred mermen and maids.

I fully expected to see some crap
memes surface stating “Don’t Panic. It’s Only Cornwall”.

Fast forward a few years and the
poster of that, and one of demanding Nelson Mandela to be hung, would appear on
Ebay being sold by toryboyswetdream as a job lot of Conservative memorabilia.

Once the flatlands of Devon and Somerset
started to vanish under water as multiple river banks gave up the fight, there
was an acceptance that “okay things aren’t looking too good”, but apart from
some denials that dredging would have helped the main response was more words
and no real action worth mentioning.

Apparently dredging is just one
of the many victims of cuts, and even if they had done it then it wouldn’t have
made any difference.

Meanwhile the water continued to
rise.

The line in the sand where it all
changed from “Tough Luck” to “National Disaster” was coincidentally drawn when the
waters reached Berkshire and Surrey.

All of a sudden a u-turn was made
and they claimed dredging would have helped, the army were sent to save the day
in a campaign that may have the code name of “Operation Too Little Too Late”
and best of all “Call Me Dave” has claimed money is no object, and he will do
everything in his power to sort this shit out.

In an era where on a daily basis
we are told we have no money for anything, that the cost of care for the disabled
needs to be reined in, that the NHS costs too much, that essential services should
be handed over to private companies to save us all money, as we as a country
are drowning in debt of course, it would appear that Dave has managed to find
an unlimited amount of cash down the back of the couch.

A rainy day fund that the rain
has literally forced him to reveal exists.

There’s something smells fishy
about the whole thing, and I don’t think the odour comes from the haddock that
has just swum through the letterbox of some poor soul in Cornwall.

Tuesday, 11 February 2014

It’s the 2nd of February 2014 and the first gig
night of NHC Music’s ‘year of attack’ on the unsigned and independent scene in
Glasgow has begun. Jamie McDermid – head honcho and wearer of long coats is in
typical gig night mode. The venue for tonight’s Monthly Music Showcase – on
this occasion a rock night – has been well and truly treaded and the beer tap
is already in full flow as Jamie paces from venue entrance, to stage, to bar
and back again, constantly assessing how close the reality to a “bands playing
to other bands” situation is.

Unfortunately, this is now one of the major worries for any
promoter on the unsigned scene. Will the weeks of advertising and pestering,
selling and marketing pay off or will your crowd decide to stay at home and
watch Eastenders? Luckily, tonight the hard work has seemingly been worth it
and the crowd, emanating from the myriad of streets surrounding the venue, are
turning out to watch the five band bill.

Jamie himself is the first to admit that the music scene is
saturated at the moment, not only with promoters but with the very people he
rallies for.

“The music scene is dying on its arse a tiny bit and it is
because one, too many bands, and two, too many promoters… if there’s less
promoter’s and they’re only good promoters, they’re going to tell the young
starter bands, “come back in a few months when you’re a bit better or when
you’ve decided that this is actually what you want to do”’.

Not your average promotion strategy but Jamie certainly ranks
NHC Music as one of the ‘good promoters’, in fact he goes all out and says that
NHC Music is also actually one of very few true promotion companies.

“A lot of promotion companies online call themselves
promotion companies but they’re not. They’re just bookers, that’s all they are.
We’re a promotion company that actually does; our main aim is to promote bands.
So we do exactly what the name says and we don’t charge.”

The ‘we’ that Jamie so often refers to is a small but
dedicated bunch of people that Jamie has brought into the project as it’s grown
from the one man and his laptop idea that was initially seeded back in 2011.
Back then Jamie didn’t quite realise how much his simple notion of “trying to
help people work out what’s actually best for the band,” would cost him in
terms of man hours and sleepless nights but the hard work has been worth it.

Not only does NHC Music promote its bands and musicians via
its social media pages but it also has a high traffic blog, packed to the
rafters with content and never far from a controversy or two, a weekly podcast
on Mesi radio with more monthly content just announced and on the way, a print
fanzine still in its infancy but with lofty ideas, an online shop which sells
and distributes band merchandise with 100% of the profit going back to the
bands and don’t forget the monthly gig nights – the heart of the whole project.
All this without it costing the musician a penny.

One area where Jamie did however ask for bands and supporters
to reach into their pockets, is a project he’s been trying to get off the
ground for the last year. The Hellfire Hub was an idea concocted not long into
NHC Music’s infancy and it’s a name which is currently giving Jamie and his team
major cause for heartache and headaches.

The idea was simple: open a place, in the heart of Glasgow,
which would incorporate seating space for people to hang out, have enough room
for an acoustic area for bands to come in and play, would be able to sell their
merchandise and music and would only play unsigned and independent artists over
its sound system.

The project hit the ground running when its Indiegogo
Campaign smashed its £600 target only ten days in, ending on a final flourish
of just over £1100 – the hard part was seemingly over. Little did Jamie know
that the uphill struggle was just beginning and the August 2013 move in date
he’d set-up in his head was all but a dream.

“It’s awful actually, isn’t it? Even at the start of August
we were still thinking… we’ve got everything else in play apart from premises
and property but that seems to be where we’ve just hit a wall.”

Jamie’s partners in the business are less polite about the
situation. John McKellar – a partner and contributor in NHC Music, and usually
the man at the centre of the blog controversies, says:

“The NHC Music Hub is unlike anything that has even been done
before. It’s a social centre designed to bring musicians and fans of home-grown
music together in one place to grow and nurture independent and unsinged music
in our city for the long-term… Now to get the damn thing open if the City Council
feel like co-operating anytime soon!”

Similar projects to one proposed by NHC Music have opened and
closed in quick succession in Glasgow city-centre, but projects such as the one
Indie band Frankie and the Heartstrings set up in their home town of Sunderland
have had much success and been backed by their local Council so what’s been the
problem?

Jamie says: “Glasgow City Council don’t really class us as
retail, so we can’t get official retail help for grants and stuff and they
don’t class us as Arts & Entertainment either, so we can’t get those grants.
We seem to be stuck in limbo at the moment.”

But limbo, in this case, is not the indeterminate state it
claims to be. Jamie knows exactly where he wants the project to go.

“Ultimately, the plan is to have [a Hellfire Hub] in every
major Scottish city. There is a lot of people out there willing to help us but
there is also a lot sitting on the side-lines to see if we can do it first.”

Those people may not be sitting on the side lines very much
longer. 2014 has already seen Jamie bring in more writers and contributors to
the business, and even bigger plans for the future are already afoot.

Foremost in Jamie’s mind, for the time being though, is the
Hub. With storage space already packed with stock and equipment and bands
clamouring to be part of the project, he remains positive about its future.

“I want everybody involved. We’ve had bands who are talking
about bringing their families down because they can’t take their kids into bars
with them, to see them play.”

Talking of which, back to the gig night. With thoughts of
contributor’s, Hub’s and Council meetings going astray there’s only one thing
to do for the time being: Jamie isn’t the only one who’s busy, that beer tap is
also getting a workout.

Very often, too often for it to
be merely coincidentally, and probably the result of an ancient curse that has been
levelled at my family, I have found myself in the wrong place at the wrong time.

In the game eeny, meeny, miny,
your fucked I have bucked the laws of statistical probability and been the ‘you’re
fucked’ more often than most could realistically believe.

I even have a recurring dream
that ties in with being born under a bad star wherein a fiery ball drops from
the sky into a large crowd and lands on me.

Everyone else is injury free, but
I’m in tiny bits.

The last thought that flits
across my mind just before I die is “bloody typical”.

That’s not to say every day is filled
with the toast landing butter side down though.

Sometimes everything works out
fine, and that’s what happened with the Tav Falco show in Glasgow.

On Sunday morning I was all
geared up to see the man himself hit the stage of Broadcast on the Monday
evening, when in a casual conversation it was mentioned that I had the wrong
date, meaning that I missed out on being in the right place at the wrong time
by a happenstance stroke of luck.

Keeping with the theme of
superstition, curses and cosmic jokes by Gods, this was my moment of the stars aligning
that bucked the normal trend.

I was on a roll when a matter of
minutes later a friend posted online that they had a spare ticket to.

All my luck was being used up in
the one day it seemed.

So in a matter of mere hours I
had went from ignorance to awareness, and then to a seat in a booth in
Broadcast and enjoying a candle lit meal with my girlfriend Kelly.

Not bad for a Sunday with three bands still to play.

First support band of the night
was The Reverse Cowgirls.

Describing themselves as a psych
tinged garage rock act they haven’t missed the head of the nail as they powered
through a bunch of songs that sound like the material from the Pebbles collections
after they have been forced to do the “Tough Mudder” assault course run.

Sounding battered and bruised,
but screaming that they are alive, song after song reinforces that the garage
sound of the west coasts underground garage scene is still as relevant as it
has ever been to those who gravitate towards a less slick, but ultimately more
vibrant take on rock and roll.

Even some technical gremlins
making an appearance couldn’t diminish the on-going onslaught.

Huge thumbs up from me.

The Primevals have been doing
their thing since the early eighties, and shared stages large and small with
pretty much everyone.

After that amount of time there
are only two real reasons why that longevity is possible.

One is that they are obstinately
unaware that they aren’t that good, and like the families of tone deaf reality
talent show contestants their nearest and dearest haven’t found a way to break
the news to them, or that they are simply damn good at what they do and know
it.

Thankfully the latter is what is
going on with these guys, and with all those years under their belts you are
guaranteed a quality show.

The garage tag is one that has
been applied often enough, and not without reason, but The Primevals are much
more than just a garage act, and are able to bring the best of RnB to the table
as they expel enough kinetic energy to light up a small town while doing so.

Double thumbs up.

Tav Falco and his Panther Burns
are a whole different story again.

If Rod Serling took on the mantle
of Dr Frankenstein and made himself a rock star to exist in the word of the
Twilight Zone then his creation would be Tav Falco.

The man, the legend, lives in the
worlds between fact and fiction, fantasy and reality.

It’s a world of shadows where ladies
of the night, burlesque show barkers, petty thieves, shining pompadours, tightly
woven zoot suits and the glint of a switchblade exist under neon lights.

An alternate universe where
the romanticized lives of the denizens of the gutter are celebrated with more
panache than most would be able to consider possible.

As he strode onto the stage a
friend remarked on how young he looked.

It’s true.
He could be the Dorian
Gray of rock and roll.

Although a continental lifestyle could
be the secret rather than any supernatural portrait hanging in an attic, his healthy
persona is worth mentioning as an aside.

Worth mentioning as it isn’t something
that is reflected by the males of the Scottish audience who were in attendance.

In the main we appear to have the
complexions of men who consider dooking* for mars bars as they are being deep
fried as a normal weekend pastime.

Maybe we should take a leaf out
of his book, or then again we could cling to the belief that dying young with a
decrepit looking corpse is the way to go.

What about the music though?

In one word it was ‘stunning’.

A mish-mash of The Cramps, Johnny
Thunders, Dean Martin and Rudolph Valentino mixed together and delivered in a
manner that takes the individual parts and creates something that is stronger as
a whole.

It’s his ability to take these multiple
strands and weave them together to conjure up a show that is like no other that
attracts people to the Tav Falco’s Panther Burns fold again and again.

On this night we had a Turkish belly
dancing intro from the bands attractive drummer, a whole slew of rock and roll
and Spanish stroll, and an interlude where Tav and a dancing partner used the
stage to display their skills as they danced the tango in a set that time wise would
have given Springsteen a run for his money if it hadn’t been cut short by the licensing
curfew.

This was not just a rock show in a
club, but an artistic representation of Shakespeare’s “A Midsummer Night’s
Dream” where the reality gives way for the surreal, albeit draped in a robe of
fifties, early sixties, rebellious teenage culture.

There’s still one Scottish date
to go and that is in Edinburgh tomorrow night (Wed 12/02/14), and it has to be
said that if the above sounds like your thing then please don’t miss it.

*Dooking – Attempting to retrieve
an apple from a tub with your teeth as part of a traditional Halloween game in
Scotland.

Sunday, 9 February 2014

On the economically bomb blasted
landscape of the high-street there are increasingly less and less last shops standing.

No one needs a heads up from the
financial sector to be aware that independents have in the main waved the white
flag and soaped their windows up.

Nor do we need to listen to the
voices of doom from the stockbrokers to understand that the major players are
struggling to.

However, it is in ‘Love Music’ -
situated in the city centre of Glasgow - that we have a record store that Canute
like sits on the beach spinning records and holding the waves back with help
from their loyal customers.

Its door from the street could as
well be the back of the wardrobe that opens to reveal a musical Narnia.

A magical world populated by
creatures made of sound.

A cornucopia of aural delights
lies within, and whenever I make a daylight trip to the city I am always
assured of a warm welcome.

This time the trip is not made
with the intent to secure yet another album/single or DVD for my collection
though, but instead it’s to enjoy an afternoon of live music from Glasgow
neo-rock and rollers “The Shiverin’ Sheiks” who are looking to draw attention
to the release of their debut album “A Curious case of…”.

Squeezing into the corner of the
store the four piece, resplendent in matching suits, set up their drums and
vintage amps, and then with an introduction from frontman Dave Dixon that is
part carnival barker, part 50’s radio DJ hosting a bop, the band are off and
running.

While most may immediately jump
to the era that the band are paying homage to it’s the Beatles circa 1960 to 1962
- when they played the Bierkellers of Hamburg - that springs to my mind.

The period when the nascent mop toppers
were more interested in playing sets of amphetamine fuelled covers of their
rock and roll idols instead of working on being the band that shook the world.

Another hint to that being a
second hand influence is in the double hint of the band name and their inclusion
of the old jazz standard “The Sheik of Araby”. A track that featured on the
Decca demos that failed to secure the fab four a deal.

Regardless of where the bands roots
are located though it’s a fine set of songs that they display.

Slow Down, The Larry Williams
classic - that was also covered by the Beatles on their Long Tall Sally ep - is
as vibrantly frenetic as modern audiences would expect, a tip of the fedora to
Bing Crosby comes from the leftfield and impresses, and the Big O gets the
Shiverin’ Sheiks work out that no one would complain about, while Cadillac,
made famous by Bo Diddley, is for me the jewel in a glittering crown as the
band deliver the evergreen backing-vocals that the song requires to shine.

It would be easy to claim the
band have all eight feet firmly planted in the past, but I’d take issue with
that as the music that they are playing is timeless after all.

The double bass being slapped, the
trembling guitar as a backdrop to sharper picking, and a drum beat that has
been luring teenagers onto the rocks of rebellion since the fifties, is
something that needn't be carbon dates as right here in 2014 it holds exactly
the same amount of power as it always has, and it would be fair to say that
with The Shiverin Sheiks it’s in safe hands.

From beginning to end the band
deliver on all fronts.

Forgive another Beatles
reference, but in regards to this beat combo, where are we going lads?

Saturday, 8 February 2014

I was given the chance to review this band by my good friend Mainy and I am glad that he asked me to review it or otherwise I would have never heard of these guysI was almost put off by them saying on their Facebook page that one of their main influences is Skrewdriver but it sounds more like Blitz than anything else.

The album consists of 10 tracks (2 extra tracks are available on the CD) and are 10 raw blasts of Punk/Oi! The title track "Guilty" sounds like a cross between Sham 69 and Evil Conduct with the main riff being taken straight from "Borstal Breakout" but hey, we can forgive them as they deliver a hard punching Oi! album.

"30 Years Tomorrow" is my favourite from the album though probably because it sounds a lot like Blitz. The topics of the songs are the usual meat and potatoes Oi! lyrics about sticking together and fighting political shit but there is something about Shameless that makes them different to a lot of new Punk and Oi! bands.

"Oi! For My Nation" could easliy be mistaken for The Business with the "Harry May" style guitar and "Friday Night Losers" could easily fit on Blitz's "Voice Of A Generation". An all round stomper of an Oi! album. If you like your Oi! in the vein of Sham 69, Blitz, Evil Conduct then I would suggest you go and get their album and see them as soon as you can. "